


Black Sand and Red Wine

by ChaoticTrickster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angel Wings, Angst and Feels, Gabriel Lives, Gen, Heaven, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Mention of torture, Post-Episode: s05e19 Hammer of the Gods, lots of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 10:25:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10989018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticTrickster/pseuds/ChaoticTrickster
Summary: Lucifer finds Gabriel on a beach after killing him. Things do not go as either of them expected.





	Black Sand and Red Wine

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a tumblr challenge/prompt thing. People sent me a fic title, and I wrote them a thing. Enjoy!

Gabriel had never particularly liked the beach. Sure, there were things to enjoy about it, and the half-naked men and women walking up and down the area definitely made the top of the list, but, in general, Gabriel didn’t really enjoy it.

He felt like that went against his Trickster personality, to be entirely honest. After all, relaxing on the beach with a glass of some kind of fruity drink was the human epitome of restful and luxurious, so of course that’s what an all-powerful god should want to do with his free time.

But beaches made Gabriel uncomfortable.

It obviously wasn’t the half-clothed population. It sure as hell wasn’t the fruity drinks. Gabriel didn’t like the beach because it reminded him too much of Heaven. And not in a good way.

The gentle sounds of the water lapping against the sound reminded him of the sounds in the Reeducation Wing, the ones they played over and over again until you wanted to permanently maim yourself just to get some silence. The heat of the sand and the stark reflection of the sun reminded him of the white walls that stretched for miles. Gabriel had never gotten over his love for the color of black thanks to those rooms.

He gave a slight shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature of his vessel as he stood at the edge of the waves, fully clothed, looking out over the sea. It was beautiful, but, then again, so was Heaven. It didn’t make it any less dangerous. Or painful.

“Thinking of home?”

Gabriel didn’t start at the voice, no outward evidence of his surprise showing, although he did tense, the Archangel Blade at the tip of his mind to be summoned into his hand at a moment’s notice. “This is home,” he countered, turning slowly to face his murderer.

They both knew he wasn’t talking about the beach.

Lucifer’s vessel looked  _ terrible _ , even worse than before, and that was really saying something. Gabriel could literally feel his Grace seeping out and spreading over the beach. It made him somewhat fearful for the inhabitants of it; Grace was a little like radiation sometimes, and Lucifer obviously didn’t have very good control over his.

“I’m impressed,” Lucifer stated after a moment. “Not many people can survive me killing them.”

Gabriel had to resist the urge to flinch-  _ pain ripped through his Grace, his very essence, as someone he’d once  _ **_trusted_ ** _ drove his own blade through his heart; he could feel his wings searing, could feel his Grace fading, and he couldn’t even scream _ \- and instead offer Lucifer a smirk. “Well, maybe I picked up a few tricks on my own.”

Something happened then. Gabriel couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was like Lucifer’s very presence  _ flickered _ . His entire being, not the vessel, but the Grace inside of it, seemed to wink out of existence for a moment before coming back. Gabriel had never seen or felt anything like it, and it lasted for less than a second, leaving the younger Archangel to wonder if perhaps he’d imagined the whole thing.

“I’m sure you did,” Lucifer murmured, quiet and almost nostalgic.

“Why are you here?” Gabriel suddenly snapped, not in the mood to put up with Lucifer’s mood swings. “Don’t you have an Apocalypse to pilot?”

It happened  _ again _ . Now Gabriel was sure he wasn’t imagining it, but what the hell was  _ it _ ?

“Do you remember before?” Lucifer asked, ignoring Gabriel’s jibe. “Before Father created the humans? Before any of it?”

Gabriel frowned. “Of course I do.”

There was dead silence for a moment, and then Lucifer turned his dying vessel’s eyes on Gabriel, desperation and insanity raging inside of them, making the younger Archangel take a step backwards. “I  _ don’t _ ,” he whispered, sounding tormented. “And I don’t know  _ why _ .”

Gabriel stared for a long moment. “Luc,” he finally began quietly, “why are you here? Why did you come here?”

“Because I  _ killed _ you,” Lucifer whispered, and Gabriel almost didn’t recognise his voice. “And I couldn’t  _ stop myself _ .”

Okay, something was obviously very  _ not right _ here, and, to be entirely honest, Gabriel was somewhat smacking himself upside the head for not noticing it earlier. He’d been too caught up in the prophecies to even consider the very person they were discussing. Sure, maybe he hadn’t known Lucifer very well towards the end, but he was still  _ Lucifer _ . He never should have trusted Michael. Or the prophets.

“Hey, Luci,” Gabriel asked lightly, trying to keep the fear out of his voice, “what’s up with your Grace? You used to be a control freak, and now you can’t keep your vessel from melting, so what’s up with that?”

For a moment, Lucifer looked confused, then, briefly, angry, like he had been since he got out of the Cage, and then, suddenly, the mask simply  _ broke _ , and he looked horrified. Once again, his Grace flickered out of existence entirely, coming back with a bright flash that made Gabriel wince, not expecting it. When he opened his eyes, Lucifer was on his knees in the sand. Black sand. In fact, the entire beach had turned black as night.

Gabriel snapped his fingers and removed all the humans from it before they got killed and then promptly knelt next to his fallen angel. “Luci?” He reached out a hand, and laid it on Lucifer’s shoulder, but he didn’t react, just staring at the sand blankly.

Taking a massive risk, Gabriel inched closer, letting his Grace envelop around Lucifer’s vessel tentatively before reaching his hand into the empty space behind him, reaching for his wings.

Grooming was a highly personal and intimate thing between two angels, even more between Archangels. Towards the end, Gabriel was the only one that Lucifer would let come close enough to touch him, and the younger Archangel prayed quietly to any god that would listen that the same would still be true.

He reached through dimensions into the place where they should have been- and encountered nothing.

Gabriel froze.

“That’s not possible,” he whispered, and for the first time since he had first crash landed on earth, he felt a very human reaction of nausea and bile rise up in his vessel.

Lucifer stirred faintly. “The Cage wasn’t Hell,” he spoke softly, the words almost inaudible. “Hell was built for demons.” He suddenly looked up at Gabriel with haunted, almost  _ dead _ eyes. “The Cage was built for Archangels.” His Grace flickered again, and for a moment insanity was back in those blue eyes. “I’m supposed to bring the end of the world. Michael is supposed to die.” He stopped. “Or, rather, he’s supposed to kill me.”

Gabriel stared. “They made you this.” He honestly didn’t even know who “they” were, but  _ someone _ had made the older Archangel into this. And if it were God, Gabriel was going to steal Michael’s fucking lance and  _ murder _ him, consequences be damned.

“I  _ killed  _ you,” Lucifer repeated, sounding mortified, and more himself.

A broken, fractured, unstable version of himself, but at least not the insane Lucifer who wanted to bring about the end of the world. Although, to be entirely honest, that one was actually slightly  _ less _ heartbreaking than this one.

“No,” Gabriel responded, and, caution be damned, pulled Lucifer into an embrace that the Archangel hesitantly returned. “I’m right here.”

A few hours later, the Winchesters came home from a hunt and stopped dead in the door to their cheap motel room, finding Gabriel sitting in an armchair that he had probably conjured up from nowhere, sipping a glass of red wine.

“We need to talk.”


End file.
